


Redemption

by Guerrera_del_Cielo



Series: Wings are the Souls of Angels [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angels, Background Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hugs, Hurt Gadreel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mean Sam Winchester, Nesting, Nice Sam Winchester, Red Hoodies, Soft Sam Winchester, Sweet Sam Winchester, at first, molting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guerrera_del_Cielo/pseuds/Guerrera_del_Cielo
Summary: Sam Winchester doesn't like Gadreel.That's what he tells himself when the angel goes missing and he finds him curled up in the dungeon, practically CUDDLING with his Stanford hoodie. He tells himself that when the angel explains that he's molting (by himself). He tells himself that when he finds Gadreel downstairs that night, still cuddling with his hoodie.He even tells himself that when-oh, screw it.Or: The one where Dean already has an angel, so Sam gets one too.
Relationships: Gadreel/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Dean Winchester
Series: Wings are the Souls of Angels [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969084
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm going to start this off with a language warning. My next paragraph will not get me any closer to Castiel and Heaven. I'll probably chill with Luci in Hell anyway.
> 
> Okay. I wrote this story because a certain BITCH (I love you, Speed) wrote a certain HEARTBREAKING FUCKING STORY that ripped my very soul to shreds. If anyone mentions 'No Promised Tomorrow' to me in the next FOUR FUCKING YEARS, I will burn their tongue out of their head.
> 
> I'm done. Enjoy the story! I know this isn't a very popular ship, but I absolutely loved Gadreel and I wish he could have gotten redemption without (SPOILER) dying. :(

It took three days of Gadreel slinking around the Bunker before Dean finally snapped. He yelled at Sam one night after a hunt, Lucifer tucked up behind him, telling him to ‘figure out what the fuck is going on with that angel, or so help me God.’

Apparently, though Lucifer and Gadreel were on speaking terms, they still weren’t best friends. The suspicious way in which Gadreel kept tucking himself in isolated corners of the Bunker was making the second archangel uneasy. Castiel admitted to feeling the same way when Sam asked him, which made up the younger Winchester’s mind.

He wasn’t particularly wary of Gadreel anymore, especially since the angel had been with them for a good three months now with no incident. Lucifer had sensed him a few weeks after he’d initially exploded himself, telling them that Gadreel was incredibly weak but still alive. The angel had been nearly human, and had begged them to leave him alone when they’d confronted him.

Needless to say… the appeal of having another ‘pet angel’, as Dean had said, was too great to just leave him. Besides, Gadreel was potentially dangerous, and they’d either had to kill him or take him in.

Ever since then, Gadreel had been doing his damndest to earn ‘forgiveness’. Lucifer knew most everything about demons, but Gadreel knew about all the other creatures who weren’t particularly born under Heaven or Hell, as he’d watched the Garden for many years. He gave them new ways to kill faeries and sirens, among many other beings that they hunted. It was incredibly useful, and also interesting. Sam would have sat down with him and listened to his stories and knowledge for hours if he hadn’t been… well, Gadreel.

It was kind of unfair, considering the fact that the angel had been nothing but quietly polite ever since he’d joined them. Still, Sam couldn’t help but feel resentful toward him for Kevin and his own possession.

He was reluctant to confront the angel about why he’d been acting so strange, but he had to agree with Dean. Gadreel was acting suspicious.

When the angel disappeared again, Lucifer shifting uneasily where he was reading on the couch beside Dean, the oldest hunter gave Sam a glare. Sighing, the youngest Winchester got up, grabbing an angel blade for good measure. He didn’t miss the little glare he got from Dean for _that_ , but he also didn’t care.

Sam trudged out of the library, going on a search of the rooms of the Bunker. His frown, which had started when he couldn’t find Gadreel in any of the bedrooms, grew even deeper when he checked the infirmary and the angel was nowhere to be found either.

Sam checked the storage rooms and the kitchen, all places the angel _should_ have been. Then he came to the door that led to the dungeon and sighed.

_If I get jumped by a crazy angel, it’s Dean’s fault_ , Sam grumbled in his mind.

He sighed, heading through the dungeon door.

It was quiet down in the dungeon. Sam had to walk extra carefully to make sure that his boots didn’t make any sound on the cement floor.

It was because he was being so quiet that he heard Gadreel in the first place.

Honestly, the angel was so quiet, Sam would have missed him the first time he passed the closed door of Room 7B. He didn’t, though, and Sam stopped when he heard a soft noise.

He squinted at the storage room, then quietly opened the door. The storage shelves had been pushed to the side, revealing the dungeon room behind it, and Sam instantly became suspicious. Raising the angel blade into ‘attack position’, Sam crept into the storage room and then into the dungeon.

He didn’t know what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t Gadreel curled up on the floor.

The angel was tucked into the bottom right corner of the room, so you had to fully walk into it before you could see him. His eyes were closed, his face pale and twisted with the ghost of some sort of intense pain, and he was curled around… some sort of red cloth.

“Gadreel?” Sam asked warily.

The angel jumped, eyes flying wide. Pure panic flashed across his face, made worse by the angel blade in Sam’s hand. He quickly regained some modicum of control, however, because the panic dissipated to slight fear. “H-Hello, Samuel. Do you require my assistance?”

“No, I need you to tell me what the fuck you’re doing down here,” Sam said, and he didn’t bother sounding pleasant. He was on edge and wary, and he didn’t want to waste any more of his time trying to figure out what the angel was doing in Dungeon 7B.

“I was… resting,” Gadreel said, and Sam didn’t think he’d imagined the flush of pink on the angel’s face. He also didn’t miss the way he was trying to hide the red thing in his hands by curling tighter around it, concealing it with his body.

“What the hell is that?” Sam demanded, taking a step forward. His grip on his angel blade hadn’t loosened, and he held it ready now.

Gadreel flinched. “What?”

“What do you have? If it’s an artifact, Gadreel, I’ll gut you,” Sam threatened. Gadreel ducked his head, though not fast enough to cover the flash of panic on his face. Sam’s jaw tightened, and he stalked forward. “There’s an archangel, a Seraph, and Dean Winchester sitting upstairs. If you attack me, you won’t make it out of here alive.”

“I would never dream of attacking you, Samuel,” Gadreel said quietly, seeming to shrink with every step Sam took toward his corner.

“Then give me whatever the fuck it is you’re holding.”

Sam knew he’d won when he saw the resigned slump of Gadreel’s shoulders. The angel handed him the red cloth without a fight, though he didn’t look Sam in the eye either.

Upon closer inspection, Sam could see that the cloth was actually… familiar. Very familiar. 

“Is this... my Stanford hoodie?” Sam asked, frowning. He unfolded it fully and found that yes, it was his Stanford hoodie. “What the hell were you doing with this?”

“You left it over a chair, I promise. I didn’t break into your room,” Gadreel said quietly. “Please, Samuel, I wouldn’t-“

“I get _that_ ,” Sam said impatiently. “Why do you have it? And why are you sitting down here?”

Gadreel looked pained, mouth twisted into a small grimace. He looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but there, and it was making Sam even more suspicious. He barely resisted the urge to start tapping his foot impatiently.

The angel was still on the floor, curled as tight as he could go into the corner. He wasn’t meeting Sam’s eye, either, which prompted the hunter to shift his foot in a threatening way. Gadreel flinched, as if he expected to be kicked.

“I… I shouldn’t have taken it, Samuel. I’m sorry,” Gadreel said quietly.

“Gadreel, why do you _have it?_ ” Sam asked, exasperated. “I can’t possibly think of anything evil you could do with a hoodie.”

Gadreel’s eyes widened and he finally looked up at Sam. “No, I wasn’t trying to do anything malicious! Please, Samuel, I swear-“

“Then why do you have it?”

Again, Gadreel looked pained. This time, though, he answered Sam’s question. “I… I don’t quite know how to explain. I believe it is… the equivalent of a stuffed bear to young humans?”

Sam stared at the angel, whose vessel was blushing hard. “You’re cuddling with my sweatshirt? _Why?_ ”

Gadreel swallowed, the sound clicking in the silence of the dungeon. “When angels molt, they often create nests. I believe stealing your clothing was my attempt at… at doing so.”

Sam frowned. “Nesting? Like, what Lucifer and Castiel do when their wings are shedding?”

“Yes. That’s called molting, and… well, nesting while it happens helps the angel feel safe. It also gives other angels a comfortable place to sit if they’re… if they’re helping the nesting angel.”

“Helping them? How?” Sam asked, no longer suspicious. He was now just curious. Dean must have known this, though he never really talked about it.

“Helping the angel groom their wings,” Gadreel said quietly.

“There’s no one down here,” Sam observed.

Gadreel flinched. “I realize that, Samuel,” he said, voice soft and ragged around the edges. For some reason, that made something in Sam’s chest ache.

“So you’re molting?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

Gadreel inhaled shakily. “Yes. It’s… It’s the first time my wings have been healed enough to do so.”

“Your wings are healed?”

“No, not by any means, but they are better than when I was in prison.”

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, processing all the new information. He wasn’t surprised to find that nesting was actually a thing, considering the fact that he’d seen the little circle of blankets Castiel liked to sleep in and the pile of pillows and flannels on Dean’s bed. Compared to those comfortable-looking things, though, this single sweatshirt looked downright pathetic.

“Were you going to have Lucifer or Cas help you with your wings?” Sam asked.

Gadreel curled into himself a little tighter, looking away. “No. I don’t think they would want to.”

“Then what were you planning on doing?” Sam asked. He snorted. “You’re down here in a dungeon all by yourself. Kinda pathetic, man.”

“I know, Samuel,” Gadreel said, voice still quiet. He still wasn’t looking at Sam. “Please, leave me be.”

Sam, a little annoyed that he was being dismissed, bunched the sweatshirt up in his hands. “Fine. Have fun in your corner.” He turned, sweatshirt in his hands, and made to leave the room.

In hindsight, it was definitely a cruel thing to do. Gadreel stayed quiet, though, and Sam didn’t think anything of it as he left the dungeon. He was half-tempted to close the storage doors, trap the angel inside the room, but he decided against it at last second. That was unnecessary, and besides, they might need Gadreel in the future.

With a tired, slightly annoyed sigh, Sam left the dungeons and headed back to the library.

Gadreel didn’t think he’d ever felt worse in his entire life.

His wings were _aching_ , and not in that familiar, sharp, painful way. It wasn’t like his torture in Heaven, it was worse. Less of a throb and more of a need for… for something. They itched, too, in places he knew he could never hope to reach. Dead feathers and dust from the explosion in the prison were lodged between healthy feathers, causing Gadreel’s shoulders to twitch with discomfort.

Worse, he was _cold_. His sad attempt at a nest had been taken from him, and he had nothing.

He’d been overjoyed when he’d seen the sweatshirt Sam had left out. It was warm and soft, and it smelled of pine and something sweet that seemed to belong uniquely to the youngest Winchester. Gadreel had taken it, knowing he didn’t deserve it, and had hidden himself in his little space in the dungeon, hoping to be undisturbed. Of course, that hadn’t happened. Sam had every right to be suspicious.

He’d _taken_ the ‘hoodie’ though, and it had made something in Gadreel’s chest quake. Something painful.

That thing hadn’t stopped hurting. If anything, it had gotten worse. Gadreel felt raw and vulnerable inside, like someone had scraped off all the armor he normally had up and thrown salt on the fresh wounds. He felt like crying and begging and sleeping, all at once. None of which were angel things to do.

Shakily, Gadreel pushed himself up off the floor. It was freezing in the dungeon at night. Too cold for him to want to stay, despite the small comfort the pressure of the corner’s two walls provided. It almost felt like another angel’s wings, if Gadreel shoved himself hard enough into the corner.

Kind of, anyway. He knew he didn’t deserve the real thing.

Gadreel crept out of the now-dark dungeon, footsteps silent. He listened for the Winchesters, knowing that they stayed up until ungodly hours of the night sometimes. Especially Dean.

That didn’t seem to be the case this time, however. Lately, Gadreel suspected that Lucifer was getting the older Winchester to go to sleep earlier. It truly was unhealthy to stay awake for that much of the day.

He had the library to himself, the map table glowing slightly. Gadreel bypassed that, instead moving deeper between the shelves. He hoped to find an interesting book, maybe so he could distract himself, and he was just going to find one when he spotted that damned sweatshirt again.

It was the red one, and it was laid across the back of the same chair Sam had left it on before. It kind of hurt, that the man had taken it from him only to throw it to the side.

_That’s ridiculous. I do not deserve the comfort a piece of clothing can provide. Besides, it’s Samuel’s anyway. Not mine._

Gadreel shook his head, going to get a book.

It took him a while, but by the time he’d located an interesting-looking novel on killing mockingbirds, the itch to nest had risen again. Gadreel sat down, book in hands, and eyed the sweatshirt out of the corner of his eye.

_I could just grab it and hold it. I wouldn’t do anything, and I’d put it back before anyone woke up._

Gadreel swallowed, trying to shove aside the need to go pull the piece of clothing to his chest and wrap it around himself. It was a stupid urge, really. Not one he deserved to indulge anyway.

Yes, stupid.

Gadreel shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on his book, wings aching painfully. He tried to ignore them, tried to ignore the near-magnetic pull of the sweatshirt draped across the chair a few yards away.

After around five minutes of reading the same sentence over and over again, Gadreel gave in. Gently, he closed the book, and then stood. Gadreel quietly crept over to the chair, staring down at the sweatshirt.

_That isn’t mine, I shouldn’t touch it. Samuel obviously didn’t want me to have it if he took it from me._

_But… Maybe if I just hold it for a few minutes, and then put it back, I can pretend it never happened._

_I always was a selfish bastard._

Gadreel reached out and grabbed the hoodie, bringing it close to himself with a soft sigh. He sat down on the ground right there, tucked against the chair legs, hoodie wrapped up in his arms. He felt better with something to hold, with the feeling of something warm next to him. He wished he could wrap it around himself, but he didn’t want to overstep.

Too late, Gadreel noticed the soul standing at the top of the stairs.

“What’s your obsession with that thing?”

Gadreel jumped, heart kickstarting and pounding away like mad. He panicked, throwing the sweatshirt across the room and wrapping his arms around himself.

_Oh, I really screwed up now. He’s going to be so angry, he’s going to throw me out. I just ruined my one chance at redemption. How could I have been so_ stupid? _Samuel might hurt me. He has every reason to. I-_

“Gadreel?”

Gadreel looked up, trembling, and saw Sam standing in front of him. His hair was tousled with sleep, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown. The hunter, who was already two or three inches taller than Gadreel, looked impossibly tall now.

“Hello, Samuel,” Gadreel said quietly.

Sam looked down at him for a moment, seeming contemplative and just the right side of sleepy. Docile, maybe. Trusting. He turned and walked over to the hoodie that Gadreel had thrown in his panic, then came back and stood in front of the angel.

“I’ll make you a deal, Gadreel,” Sam said. “You tell me why you’re so attached to this, and I’ll let you have it.”

“H-Have it?” Gadreel whispered.

“Yes. You can… hug it, or whatever you want to do with it. All yours. But tell me why you like it first,” Sam said.

Gadreel hesitated, then spoke quietly. “It’s warm. And it smells… good. It-It makes me… make me f-feel…”

“Safe?” Sam offered when Gadreel couldn’t finish.

Throat too tight for words, the angel merely nodded.

Instead of laughing at him or getting disgusted, Sam’s face softened and he knelt in front of Gadreel. “Here, go ahead,” he said, holding it out. Gadreel stared for a moment, wondering if this was a trick. He’d never just been _given_ good things. He’d made mistakes, so he had to earn his right to them. Trust. Warmth. Acceptance. Friendship.

His angel instincts were kind of taking over, though, so he reached out tentatively and took the hoodie from Sam. The hunter didn’t make any move to pull it away, and he merely smiled when Gadreel tucked it against himself.

“You know, it’s kind of easier if you wear it,” Sam said. At Gadreel’s confused expression, Sam chuckled, dimples making flutters start in Gadreel’s stomach. “Here. Pull this part over your head, like… _that_ , and then stick your arms — no, that’s the left one — through here. There.” Sam sat back, giving the hoodie-wrapped angel a small smile. “Better?”

Gadreel’s eyes slipped closed, pure joy stealing through him. “Yes. Thank you, Samuel,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Sam is fine,” Sam said. His eyes were so soft, and Gadreel wondered why he was being so kind.

“I… Would you prefer if I called you Sam?” he asked.

“Do whatever makes you comfortable, Gadreel,” Sam said. His low voice was gentle, way kinder than Gadreel deserved, and the angel wondered what he had done to earn such warmth.

Gadreel expected Sam to get up and leave, but the hunter surprised him again. Sam sat down on the cold Bunker floor, bringing his knees up and putting his arms around them loosely. He seemed to be mirroring Gadreel’s position, though he looked admittedly more relaxed.

Gadreel was easing into the atmosphere a little more, his body calming as he got used to being wrapped in warm softness. The hoodie smelled delightfully like Sam. It soothed something deep inside of him.

“You and my brother are kind of alike, you know?” Sam asked. 

Gadreel furrowed his brows a little. “I am… like Dean?”

“Yeah. You’re both kinda headstrong and stupid, but soft and sweet on the inside, I think,” Sam said. He chuckled. “I’ve seen Dean around Lucifer. It’s kind of disgusting.”

Gadreel allowed himself a small, wistful smile. “I think it’s nice.”

“You think… Dean’s relationship with Luce is... nice?” Sam asked. He looked surprised.

“Yes. Dean Winchester obviously cares very much for Lucifer. It is… heartening, I suppose,” Gadreel admitted quietly, “to know that redemption and forgiveness can be earned.”

Sam’s face twisted a little with something that looked like shame, and he looked away. “Yeah, I know. I guess I haven’t really been fair to you, have I?”

Gadreel frowned. “Fair?”

“Yeah. I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder for quite a while,” Sam said.

Gadreel frowned, deciding to skip the clarification on what ‘cold shoulder’ meant. He was sure he could learn sometime soon, probably from Castiel. The dark-haired Seraph was well-versed in human pop culture.

“That’s alright,” Gadreel replied. 

“Not really. I’ve been an ass, I think. And you don’t deserve that,” Sam said.

Gadreel stared. “Why?” he asked, unable to really get out anything else. What was Sam talking about? Was Gadreel misguided in assuming that they were talking about the same thing?

“Because you’re a person, Gadreel, and I kinda feel like I’ve been using you and then ignoring you,” Sam said. He looked guilty and ashamed, which was wrong. It was very, very wrong. Sam hadn’t done anything bad, _Gadreel_ had been the one who had made mistakes. He’d killed Kevin and possessed Sam without his consent, among many other horrible things. 

Gadreel frowned. “I am not a person, Sam Winchester. I haven’t been a person in many, many millions of years. I am still working toward becoming one again.”

Sam winced. “Gadreel, that’s not-no. No. You’re a _person_ , you’re just… a person who’s made mistakes. That’s okay. We’ve all made mistakes. We were all forgiven. I think it’s time I forgive you, too.”

Gadreel blinked at the hunter shock stealing his breath away. “R-Really?” he asked, voice barely audible. “Now?”

Sam gave him a smile that seemed strangely sad. “Yes. God knows you’ve been trying to redeem yourself for long enough.”

Gadreel’s eyes felt hot, for some strange reason. His voice was choked when he spoke again. “You… forgive me?”

“Yes. I forgive you, Gadreel,” Sam said. He smiled, those dimples emerging again, and the numbness in Gadreel’s chest broke like a dam.

He sobbed, the noise surprising him, and clamped a hand over his mouth to try to muffle any further disturbances. Unfortunately, all that did was remind him that he was still wearing Sam’s hoodie, which made him sob even harder.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit. Act normal, I need to act normal, no, I can’t mess this up. I_ cannot _mess this up. I’ve waited for too long-oh, Father, please-_

Gadreel’s entire body went deathly still as warm arms circled around his shoulders.

His hands, which had been raised to press over his mouth, fell away. They were still bent at the elbows, trapped between his body and Sam’s warm chest.

The younger hunter had put his _arms_ around Gadreel’s _body_. Wasn’t this called a hug? Why was Sam doing it to him? Gadreel had thought it was used to comfort other humans, and though one observing might think that he needed that, his previous actions certainly didn’t warrant such things. What was the purpose-

“Shh,” Sam soothed. “Don’t think so much. Just close your eyes and relax. It’s a hug, Gadreel. ‘M not gonna hurt you. Just trust me.”

And he did. Gadreel _did_ trust Sam, so he did as the younger hunter had said. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the warm hold around him, reflecting that humans were very good at comforting other beings. Their arms were like- _oh_.

Sam raised his hand and stroked it through the back of Gadreel’s hair, and the angel was lost.

Right there on the Bunker floor, he melted into a little puddle. Sam laughed quietly, supporting him when he went boneless, arms still trapped between their two chests. Sam ended up on his ass on the floor with a lapful of Gadreel, arms drawn tight around the angel in a way that felt right. It made a slightly awkward picture, the two of them being large men, but they made it work.

Sam threaded his fingers through the smaller man’s hair, smiling at the soft noise that action elicited. It reminded him of something Dean had said once. _All angels are douchebags, except the ones who purr when you pet them_ _._ That sentence had been accompanied by a sappy glance at Lucifer, so Sam had disregarded it at the time. It seemed to be true now, or at least marginally so. 

“Tomorrow, if you’d like, we can look at your wings,” Sam murmured softly, lips brushing the top of Gadreel’s hair.

The angel tensed slightly. “Sam, I must warn you… They won’t be-“

“Pretty? Yeah, I know. Lucifer and Castiel calibrated my expectations a long time ago,” Sam said. “It’s okay, Gadreel. You’ll be okay. I can help you, alright?”

“You’ll… You’ll groom them?” Gadreel asked quietly.

“Only if you want me to,” Sam said, keeping his voice purposefully light. He wanted the offer to be open-ended. He didn’t want to cause the angel to feel pressured in any way. Angel wings were sacred, Dean had told him as much.

“I do,” Gadreel breathed, and it was more of a rush of breath than anything. Sam squeezed him tighter in response, a warm feeling stirring in his chest at the thought of being trusted so deeply. They were silent for long minutes, and then Gadreel’s soft, low voice broke the quiet. “Why were you down here, Sam?”

Sam gave a soft snort. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I hadn’t seen you since this afternoon, and I was… worried. I don’t know why. Maybe I just felt like an asshole.”

Gadreel pressed a little closer, tentative. Sam squeezed him tight. “I don’t think you are an… an asshole. You’re very kind. I appreciate the sweatshirt you lent me.”

Sam laughed. “You can keep that. And if you need anything else, blankets or whatever, just tell me. I’ve seen Lucifer’s nest in Dean’s room, and it’s pretty epic.”

Gadreel had seen it too, and he couldn’t help the tears that welled up at the thought of being gifted the chance to make a nest like that. 

“Gadreel?” Sam said, gently pulling the angel out of his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

Gadreel frowned a little. “Yes, of course.”

“What’s the reason you wanted my hoodie in particular? Dean leaves his stuff lying around all the time,” Sam said.

Gadreel tensed a little, shrugging. “Dean is mated, Samuel. I didn’t want to intrude on his relationship.” He stopped, and when Sam didn’t sound convinced, the angel sighed. “And I suppose… I find your scent to be particularly-to be particularly calming. I’m sorry.”

Gadreel tried to pull away, his traitorous vessel flushing hotly. Sam’s arms tightened, keeping him from escaping. For some reason, that was soothing instead of frightening. Gadreel relaxed back into the hunter’s warm body.

“Don’t apologize. I get it. Cas told me… He told me you angels get attached to certain humans pretty easy. That true?” Gadreel nodded, face burning. Sam chuckled at that. “Well, then, I’m honored to have been chosen by you.”

That sentence caused a whole new wave of tears, and Gadreel was too embarrassed to do much more than hide his face. Sam didn’t mock him, just hugged him. The feeling of being warm and safe, held by someone he trusted, was foreign but welcome. 

They stayed like that for a long time, and when Sam murmured that he wanted to go back to sleep, he invited Gadreel to come with him. As the angel lay cuddled up with the youngest hunter in bed that night, he decided that maybe the process of his wings molting wasn’t so bad after all.

And if in the morning, when they both came out of Sam’s room and found Dean smirking smugly at both of them, well, Gadreel supposed that wasn’t so bad either.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought! I appreciate the time you took to read it. I'll be over in a corner, crying my eyes out and stuffing chocolate ice cream in my mouth until I hopefully choke or something. At least then maybe I'd FEEL something other than pain.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Also, I suppose I should tag Speed, since I absolutely trashed her story and her name). The end of my soul and my existence as a human being was called 'No Promised Tomorrow', by Faster_Than_the_Speed_of_Sound. Go check it out if you feel like crying a lot.
> 
> See you all soon!


End file.
